


Wake me up, I wanna feel the sun

by Small_bump



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: (undiagnosed), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of blood but nothing graphic, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Protective Aaron, Robert centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_bump/pseuds/Small_bump
Summary: It's his shaking hands that get Robert in the end.(Robert's parked in the lay-by, he's having a rough night.)





	Wake me up, I wanna feel the sun

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from _Bad Dream_ by Ruelle. This short fic, is inspired by Lastgoldsun, but also my own experiences with Paranoia. 
> 
> _Disclosure_ : everyone suffers through things differently, and no two cases are really ever the same, so just because this was my experience, doesn't mean it's yours.

 

 

 

 

It's his shaking hands that get Robert in the end. He can’t hold onto the stirring wheel, he tries, digs his fingers into the leather fabric and tries to hold on. The tremors though, there relentless. Maybe it’s the shock, that’s what the nurse had said when she’d examined him.

 _Sophie_ he thinks was her name, he can’t remember— knows she told it to him. He remembers her smile though, warm and kind. Truthfully, the hospital visit had been a cloudy haze and Robert’s only just breaking through the smoke, coming back, just a fraction, just enough to pull over, into the lay-by.

He turns the engine off, lets the quiet seep into his bones. His fingers, trail their way up the back of his neck, and into his hair. Feeling the soft material of the bandage. Six stitches lay behind that piece of fabric. Robert remembers trying to have a look in the mirror before deciding to go to the hospital, remembers the blood that had trickled down his forehead and into his right eyebrow.

He’d made a mess, all over the rug.

Aaron's rug.

The one they’d bought together from a charity shop in Hotten. As far as Robert was concerned, it was a cheap bit of tat. He remembers though, how proud Aaron had been to lay it out in front of the couch. Pulling the coffee table over it. _It was a bit of him_ , he'd said. Robert had done most of the decorating while Aaron had been inside. This was his contribution; it hadn't mattered that it had only cost them a fiver; the meaning behind it made Aaron a lot happier than he ever cared to let on.

It’s ruined _now_ , blood stained into the wool. Robert’s _ruined_ it.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called Aaron. He said he’d call; of course, he’d call him. Aaron’s his husband; he’d want to know if Robert was hurt. He’d call him; he had to, once he’d got to the hospital, that’s what he told himself. Only he didn’t while he waited in the emergency room, and he didn’t while he sat on that gurney and let the doctor stitch his head back together. He didn’t when the nurse had asked him if he wanted her to call a relative for him.

And then it was too late; there was no point in worrying Aaron now, when it was all over, when Robert was fine. Because he _was_ , the tremors were from the accident, it had been an _accident_. He’d stood up too quickly, too much blood had rushed to his head too soon. His footing had been all wrong, Robert’s clumsy, everyone knows that. He’d fallen, slamming his against the corner of the coffee table.

He wasn’t even drunk; he couldn’t blame it on the drink. It was clumsiness. There was nothing else to it.

If that’s all it was, why won't the shaking stop? He's stuck here, on the lay-by, and Robert knows what he has to do. What he's wanted to do all night. Call Aaron.

 

 

 

 

  
When Robert was little, he was afraid of monsters under the bed. His mother, patient as always would bring Robert to his room after his bath. She would get down on her knees, and lift the duvet covers up, craning her neck, so she could look at the dark space underneath the bed.

 _All clear love, no monsters here tonight_.

Over time, Robert stopped being scared of monsters under the bed. He ditched the nightlight his mum had bought him and just grew up. What Robert didn’t know back then was, that adulthood has its own monster. They crawled and teared their way inside his head until there’s an itch. Right _there_. Robert can feel that there's something wrong, but this isn’t a cut. It’s unidentifiable. It lurks just beneath the surface, clings to his fears, twists and turns, until they’re nightmares until they're monsters.

Robert trades one for the other, instead of being afraid to look under the bed, his afraid to look over his shoulder.

He wishes, just once, there would be someone there. Just once, when he looked around, there would be a figure behind him. It’s better, then the alternative. It has to be better.

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t notice; Aaron’s arrived until he’s banging on the glass. _The cars locked_ he hears Aaron shout, muffled not just by the barrier, but also from the haziness which hasn't completely left. He doesn’t remember locking the door, when had he locked the door?

He reaches over, unlocks the passenger's side door. Still wondering how he could have locked himself inside his own car, and not remember the action.

“What’s happened? Liv was in a right state when I got home. She found blood on the rug.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of Liv coming home for her tea, and finding a trail of blood leading to the door. He sinks further into his seat, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps doing this, keeps messing up. Hurting and disappointing the people he cares about the most. A vicious cycle, one that too often feels unbreakable.

“Rob” Aaron’s close. He’s leaning over the seat, trying to get grip on him, to steady him, to pull him back from wherever his mind had taken him too. “Talk to me Robert, you said you’d been to the hospital. What happened?”

“I fell, you know me I’m clumsy—always. I fell and my head got caught on the side of the table. Cracked, is what the doctors said. Six stitches.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I ruined the rug, it's your favourite and I ruined it.” _Just like I ruined us._

“Oh, Rob” Aaron sighs. Robert can feel his hand on the base of his spine. Aaron’s not moving it, not rubbing his back. He just applies a soft pressure; as if to say I _’m here, you’re here, hold on for me._

“I don’t care about the flaming rug, I care that you’re alright. Jesus when Liv phoned me, I thought something had seriously happened. I—I thought I was going to loose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. You just have to talk to me. I can’t help you if you won't tell me what’s going on.”

Robert licks his lips; his breath uneven “there’s something wrong with me Aaron. I don’t know what, I just know that there is and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“I’ll call the clinic in the morning, see if they can fit you in. We’ll figure this out, but Robert” Aaron stops, hand moving from the base of his spine to the side of his hip. Robert can feel Aaron’s fingers dig in, not painfully though. It’s comforting; Aaron knows Robert’s not ready for a hug. He knows, just like Robert knows, that after a panic attack Aaron likes to be held. That he feels safe in Roberts’s arms. Aaron knows, that Robert needs his space, needs to be able to breathe. He knows that at times comfort can feel suffocating, and too _much_. “you're not on your own.”

“What do we do now?”

“I’ll drive us home and get Adam to tow your car back to the house in the morning.”

Robert doesn’t argue, let’s Aaron take the reins. Let’s Aaron guide him out of the driver's seat and into Aaron’s car. Lays on his side, and feels the cool fabric against his check, tiredness creeping into his eyes.

 

 

 

 

When the haziness clears, Robert knows it wasn’t clumsiness. He’d seen a shadow outside the window, a monster lurking under the bed. He’d panicked, tripped, and cracked his head wide open. He remembers his first thought when the shock had worn off, and he’d realised what happened. He’d thought _maybe now the monsters can finally be free_.

It’s not that easy though, it never is. But at least, he knows he isn’t going to face it alone. _It’s a small mercy_.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on tumblr @victoriasugden


End file.
